Exsanguinate
by DreaBean
Summary: Adair, Telvanni, Arch-Mage, and Champion of Cyrodiil is approached by a strange man in a black cloak. She didn't know accepting his offer was going to lead to torment, love, and an heir to the Empire. Lucien did though. In his own way.
1. Chapter 1

This is the sequel to the mini fic I wrote called "Lighting the Dragonfires" though it's not really necessary to read that one first, as everything gets explained. From there, Exsanguinate covers the whole of the Dark Brotherhood quest, and many others, with some slight and some severe variations. I'd like to thank Pheonicia for letting me use Maranique, as the character is originally hers. Also thanks to Alani, for without whom this story would be stuck back at Chapter 20. Also, special thanks to ThreeEyedSquirrels for the talk through. :D

Disclaimer: Oblivion is owned by Bethesda Inc, and not by me. All characters mentioned belong there and I'm merely playing with them.

**Exsanguinate  
Chapter One **

**"Affirmative Action"**

"Arch-Mage Alderan!" shouted an associate as the Dark Elf mage descended from her room high in the tower of the Arcane University.

With a barely contained eye roll, Adair swivelled to gaze sternly at the shaking associate. "Yes?" she asked, thinly disguising irritation with concern. "Is something wrong?"

"It's . . . it's Master Polus, Arch-Mage..." the associate quibbled under her fierce glare and he visibly shrank backwards out of her line of fire.

"What about him?" she snapped, stepping down off the lightly glowing transportation pad. "Well?" she asked, her voice rising as the boy swallowed loudly and didn't answer. Adair sighed loudly before forcibly gentling her voice and face. "Dyan, wasn't it?" she asked and he nodded jerkily. "I'm sorry I frightened you," she said soothingly, and bent down a little to be on his level. "What's wrong with Raminus?"

The boy refused to meet her eyes but he whispered, his voice still shaking. "He's dead, Arch-Mage."

All expression bled out of the tall mer's features to be replaced by cold rage. "Where is he?" she snarled. With a trembling finger, the associate pointed to the door leading just outside the tower. Dyan actually bolted when she stormed past him, her lithe body vibrating with power. The front doors to the Arcane University blasted open with a deafening bang and the Arch Mage strode out only to come up short at the dead body laid out in front of her.

"Arch Mage," another associate hedged nervously as she knelt at her dead friend's side. She shot him a venomous look and the tow-headed Imperial quickly shut his mouth.

Kneeling by Raminus' serene face, Adair slipped his head onto her lap, running her fingers through his hair before gently closing his eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered to him. "I'm sorry old friend." With blazing eyes, she stood, staring down the quivering associate. "Find every staff member, magister and associate on the premises. This nonsense has gone on long enough!" she barked, and the boy ran.

Gently carrying Raminus' body into the tower using a strong telekinesis spell, Adair slowly made her way back inside. Maranique was waiting, and the battlemage stared at her leader impassively. "Necromancers?" she asked flatly.

Adair nodded morosely. "He has the stench of death about him," she said softly. "We have to burn the body," she added. "Their raising spell takes days to work." She leaned against the wall her expression threaded through with exhaustion. "And damned if I'm going to let those fetchers do that to him."

Maranique glanced through the still opened door, silent. "The throng is here."

The Arch-Mage rose to her feet. "Come with me," she ordered sharply, and the battlemage followed her outside. Everyone fell silent when she appeared on the dias. "Friends and fellow Magisters," she called. "Our beloved Master Wizard, Raminus Polus...was killed this morning by necromancers. Although we have stopped the process they have undoubtably used on his body, this nonsense has gone on long enough. Maranique has a list of all the Necromancer Alters. Anyone over twenty five, go with her to be formed into groups." She narrowed her eyes as the wind blew. "If every single alter is not destroyed by the end of the month, there will be hell to pay."

"But...!" called someone in the crowd, "people will die!"

"People have died!" Adair shouted back. "And damned if I'm going to let them pick us off one by one. Mannimarco is dead, and it's time they started acting like it. Go!" Without sparing the last remaining council member a glance, Adair cast her Recall spell and vanished in a flash of white light.

-

She appeared in Cheydinhal, just outside the main gate. News of Raminus' death wouldn't have reached there yet, as far as she could tell only a handful of people could teleport. She had marks all over the providence, even some in Morrowind, though she suspected that time and distance had faded those. She made her way towards the Guard's Barracks, trying to muster up a smile for the man who was waiting there.

She came up the tower and reached into the pocket of her long cloak, pulling out an enchanted ring, something Garrus had given her for their first anniversary. Adair blinked a few times and the shimmer of magic settled around her head showing the glowing purple life forms inside the building. "Garrus!" she shouted, and finally found her smile as one of the glowing magic figures turned towards the shut window. "Garrus..." she sing-songed out and the shutter to the window burst open.

"Arch-Mage?" a voice called teasingly down towards her. "Is that you?"

"Of course it's me, you silly _s'wit_," she called back with a barely contained eye-roll. "And don't call me that!"

Garrus leaned out of the window, looking down at his erstwhile lover. "Call you what? Arch-Mage? Isn't that what you are?"

"If you insist on calling me that," Adair called back teasingly, crossing her arms over her chest, "I'll just go away and find someone else to spend my time with."

Garrus leaned a little farther out of the window. "Oh?" he called, "and where would you go?"

She grinned, finally able to push sadness away from her. "Skingrad," she mocked. "I have to find Sinderion, we have alchemenical things to discuss."

For a moment Garrus looked worried, but the distance wiped most of the expression off his face. "Then I shall have to come down there and convince you otherwise."

"If you must," she laughed, putting on a belabored air. She turned as though to walk away and the moment the shutters slammed closed she spun back around to watch the now familiar figure of Garrus bolt down the stairs towards her.

He caught her around the waist and lifted her into the air; spinning her around before bringing her close. "I missed you," he whispered into her shorn hair. "Each time you are away I feel your loss more acutely everyday."

She carded her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck and gently kissed the side of it. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I'm so busy, it's hard to get away from Ocato now."

"It's been five years since the Emperor died," he reminded her gently.

"And it's been five years since we had no heir," Adair chided him, pulling away. "You don't have to wait for me," she said softly.

He leaned up and gently kissed her. "I would have no other woman," he told the mer, "and we have too much to catch up on to stand here talking." With no further ado, Garrus lifted the startled Adair into his arms and he carried her through Cheydinhal.

"Garrus!" she shouted in surprise, struggling against his arms. "Put me down you fetcher!"

He only chuckled and held her tighter. "You and the rest of the town know that if you wanted to get away," he told her archly, "you'd have already done it by now."

She immediately stopped struggling and narrowed her red eyes at him. "Or I could do this," she said and the wind swirled around them while the world blinked out of existence in a flash of white light.

When the world stopped spinning, Garrus found himself standing in her house, his arms empty. "That wasn't very fair," he said to the air.

Adair leaned over the balcony that looked down into the kitchen. "Arch-Mage!" she sing-songed at him and he raced up the stairs to catch her. Neither of them noticed the front door opening and closing.

-

Lucien Lachance stood still at the bottom of the stairs to Adair Alderan's bedroom. He listened to his soon-to-be recruit and her lover unashamedly. It had taken him almost five years to get Ungolim to agree to recruiting the Arch-Mage. Five _years_. Lucien had taken great pains to orchestrate her joining.

Freshly named the Champion of Cryodiil, her dispatch of daedra and the Mythic Dawn was cold and ruthless, her odd eyes narrowed in concentration. She looked much the same when he set the fool Nord on her in Anvil.

But Ungolim forced his hand, Lucien told him everything, and the Listener closed himself from the Speaker. Until now. Their Family was falling apart at the seams, a traitor was killing them slowly from the inside out, and eyes were on him.

He needed someone who he could trust, someone to watch him, to kill for him and finally to absolve him.

Matthieu Bellamont was not going to win this time.

When the noises from above slowed to a halt and Lucien could hear their breathing even out, he carefully climbed the stairs and sat in the chair by the bed. He twirled his enchanted ring around his finger, a nasty habit he succumbed to when he was particularly bored. The Ring of Shadows cloaked him from the naked eye, not that either of the naked occupants of the room had their eyes open.

It just wouldn't do to be caught by the City Guard Captain. He had a reputation to uphold.

-

Maranique gestured angrily for silence as she and her battalion of Battlemages slipped invisibly into Dark Fissure. Each brave associate had been given Adair's special Chameleon spell which contained both the power of its name and life detect within a hundred yards.

The associates skilled in marksman went first, picking off Necromancers with highly enchanted arrows and bows, then the stronger mages, who burnt the remains to cover their tracks. The group of six mages moved soundlessly through the caves, leaving little invisible markers to show their passing.

The smell of death, decay and burning bodies wasn't out of place in a Necromancer sanctuary. She was going to be washing her skin off for months.

Dyan placed a glowing purple hand on her shoulder. "Maranique," he whispered, "this cavern ends in a dead end. We have to go back."

As one, the group turned and were face to face with a tall altmer mage, several zombies standing around her. Everyone stopped moving, stopped breathing, hoping she hadn't heard them.

A blank smile was on her face before she muttered one word. "Dispel."

The Chameleon dropped and Maranique took a single second to yell, "FIRE!"

It was the last second Dyan ever had.

-

Garrus rose early in the morning, rolling over to smile down at Adair's sleeping form. He brushed her blue-black hair away from her eyes, leaning down to kiss her gently. She stirred into wakefulness against his lips and opened her eyes sleepily to smile at him.

"Morning," she sighed out, stretching like a cat into the warm covers. "What time is it?"

"Early," he said vaguely. "I wanted to wake you before I left for morning watch." He kissed her again. "So you wouldn't wake up alone."

Her eyes popped open. "You woke me for that?" she said teasingly, rolling over and away from him. "Silly fetcher, I could still be sleeping right now."

Garrus rolled her back. "Will I see you after I finish with the watch?"

She shook her head, and for one brief moment her eyes lingered on the chair by the bed, but they slid away and Lucien breathed again. "No, I have to get back to the University. We're taking a bit of an...affirmative action stance against the necromancers."

Her lover chuckled. "I'll miss you, as always."

They chatted for a few moments more before the Captain of the Guard dressed and hurried quickly out the door. Adair lay for long moments in silence before sitting up and stretching with no regard to her nudity. "Who are you," she said pleasantly, "and what are you doing in my room?"

Lucien started almost violently and stared at the semi-naked dunmer. "How did you know I was here?" he asked.

She wiggled the fingers of her right hand at him. Shining mutely on her thumb was a silver and sapphire ring that gleamed with a hint of power. "Life detect," she said unnecessarily. "Now, who are you?"

Lucien took off his ring of invisibility, disappointed when she didn't gasp. "I am Lucien Lachance," he said smoothly. "A Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood."

Lucien had been an assassin for almost as long as he could remember, he'd appeared before hundreds of individuals, women who screamed, children who cried, men who gibbered in terror. Not one of them had ever laughed before.

When Adair could breathe again, she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hands. "The Dark Brotherhood?" She giggled again, through her next words. "Are you here to kill me then?"

It was Lucien's turn to chuckle. "If I was, you wouldn't have known I was here."

The smiles and laughter in the mer's face was gone one instant to the next. "No, you wouldn't have," she said evenly. The sharp glint in her eyes told Lucien more truth than her lips did. "I was raised by a Telvanni Wizard when I was taken from Morrowind. How close do you think you would have gotten to me before I noticed you?"

"Not close at all," the man confessed.

"Just so long as we understand that." The smile was back. "If you're not here to kill me, Mr. Lachance, what _are_ you here for?"

He leaned forward and produced The Blade of Woe from nowhere. Adair didn't look too impressed but she took the dagger anyway. She ran sensual fingers over the flat of the blade, feeling the harnessed power the ebon and gold knife held. "That is the Blade of Woe and it..." he halted suddenly at her snort, and when he glared she arranged her face to look contrite. "It will aid you. On the Green Road lies an inn, the Inn of Ill Omen and..." she snorted again. "Have I said something to amuse you?"

"The Inn of Ill Omen?" she repeated. "How...unfortunate."

"Yes," he said annoyed. "In this inn you will find Rufio, an old man with a weak heart, kill him with this virgin dagger, and I will come to you when I deem it worthy."

Adair laid the blade on her coverlet and crossed her arms over her chest. "Let me get this straight, Mr. Lachance. You want me to murder an old man with a weak heart?"

"Ask him and find out what he's done," Lucien said enigmatically. "Perhaps I will see you soon." He slipped the ring back on and rose quickly, vanishing out the open door.

"I can still see you," she called after him, and he grimaced even as he vanished out the front door. She chuckled to herself, standing only when she could no longer see the purple mist and dressing quickly. She obviously had a few errands to run today.

-

She flickered into existence just inside a crumbling tower. Immediately to her left stood a shocked mage conjurer who just as immediately fell over frozen solid with a strong paralysis spell. A dark head looked over the top edge of the Tel. "Arch-Mage? Is that you?"

Rolling her eyes at the mer's antics, Adair forwent answering and instead began levitating herself up to his level. Adair frequently practiced her levitation when visiting the Tel, almost always forgetting she could never hold it long.

Just before reaching the top, the spell ended with the sound of a fizzled out candle and she felt a brief sensation of weightlessness before being pulled telekinetically into Fathis Aren's arms. "Hello Father," she said muffled against his shoulder.

"Don't call me that," he chastised her, but he didn't let her go.

"Then don't call me Arch-Mage," she responded in the same tone.

Fathis laughed and let her go. "Why do you always insist on levitating up here when you can't make it the full way?"

Adair let him lead her to his work room. "Because someday I'm hoping you'll take pity on me and teach me again?"

He shot her a dry look. "If I and Hassildor couldn't do it, then you're just hopeless. You're a terrible Telvanni."

Adair took that moment to poke him in the chest. "That's because I'm _not _a Telvanni," she reminded him. "I _like _living in houses, and I _like _people." Fathis gave her a scathing look and she revised her statement grudgingly. "All right, fine. I like _most _people."

She hopped up onto his work table and he stared up at her. "Since I'm sure you haven't come to see if I will teach you to cast successful spells, child, what have you come for?"

"I actually had a question for you," she said. "Have you ever heard of the Dark Brotherhood?"

TBC in Chapter Two; "Positive Reaction".


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Fathis stared at her before snorting into laughter. Imaging his little Adair in the leather armor of the famed assassins, he only laughed harder until the woman smacked him ruthlessly upside the head with a strong bolt of magic.

His insane giggles tapered off, and he rubbed his head ruefully. "That was unkind," he said to her.

"Now I know _I _laughed in Lucien Lachance's face, but that doesn't mean you should laugh in mine." Fathis stared at her and she frowned at him. "What?" she asked.

"You...laughed in your assassin's face?" Aren repeated incredulously. "Do you have a death wish?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I have nothing to worry about from Lucien _fetching_ Lachance. He couldn't even sneak up on me properly." She pulled out the Blade of Woe. "Besides, he was offering me a chance to, well, join them."

He took it from her nimble fingers and turned the ebony blade around in his hand. "This is a special blade. Or it would be if whoever put the dampening charm on it would take it off. Are you going do it?"

Adair looked contemplative. "Maybe. I'm bored, Fathis. Being the Arch-Mage isn't as exciting as being," she looked irritated, "the Champion of Cyrodiil." She tilted her head to one side, looking considering. "It's not like I haven't murdered before."

The Telvanni looked grave. "I am not your father, Adair, but you should think very carefully on this before agreeing to anything. You cannot quit without repercussions."

The shorter 'mer rolled her eyes. "Fathis, I'm not an idiot. If I do this, I wouldn't quit for no reason at all." She took back the Blade of Woe and gently sheathed it. "Besides," she added, "I'm not even sure if I am going to do it."

Fathis closed Adair's fingers over the hilt of the knife. "Best make up your mind soon, child." They were silent for a long moment and finally the Telvanni sighed. "When are you going to tell me about Raminus?"

Adair choked on her next breath of air, staring at her father figure with something akin to horror. "Fathis!" He pulled her into his arms again and she leant there, with him standing between her knees as she sat on his table, her face delicately buried in his shoulder. "I had successfully not thought about that for several hours," she said. She pulled away. "Necromancers did it. I know you have a somewhat lax view on them, but they're the _fetchers_ what killed my second in command." She slipped off the table. "Maranique and the other associates are going to kill them all."

"All of them?" Aren said with a carefully neutral tone. "And I?"

"You're a Telvanni, Father. You are so far beyond the league of the Mages Guild that even if you were a necromancer, which you're not, the Guild wouldn't even be able to find you." She smiled at him sadly. "I'll be back with more news, I promise."

"What do I tell Hassildor?" Fathis asked her, forgoing correcting her on calling him Father.

"Tell him I'll come see him in a few days." Just as the Mage Conjurer she'd paralyzed rushed up the stairs with a Void Atronach, she dematerialized in a flash of white light.

* * *

It had been less than two days since she sent her associates and battlemages out into the field, and the University seemed strangely empty. The younger magisters and associates milled around looking a cross between aimless and terrified. Raminus' body was sealed in a glass casing in the courtyard, a nightshade blossom resting carefully on his chest.

A potent freezing charm kept him preserved until they could bury him, the entire company whole and hale. Staring down at the burn marks on his forehead, the skull and bones of the Necromancers, she felt the first stirring of rage bubble up from somewhere deep inside.

The next thing she realized, she was standing in front of Fargyl Inn, only a stones throw away from the Inn of Ill Omen. She strode off towards it without a second thought. Halfway there, she felt a tickle on the edge of her awareness, casting a silent Life Detect. Purple light flared in her red eyes and she could see Lucien following close behind. Magicka crackled around her and mid-step she vanished without a trace, leaving a light green powder on the road. Lucien's own life detect spell was no match for the angry Adair.

As far as Lucien could tell, the Arch-Mage was gone.

Rolling her eyes at the stupid Imperial who continued to follow her, she quickened her pace until the purple glow was left behind. By the time she reached the Inn of Ill Omen her chameleon spell had ended and she was slightly less angry than when she'd started out.

She let herself into the unfortunate inn, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the firelight. "Well, I'll be a spotted snowbear!" shouted a voice. "A customer! What can I do you for?"

She offered him a small smile. "Mead?" she asked, "I'm only looking for someone, perhaps you know him?" The inn keeper nodded for her to continue. "His name is Rufio."

"Rufio? That old codger? What business do you have with him?"

Adair gave him a wide innocent smile. "Arch-Mage business unfortunately."

He looked intrigued and settled down at the bar across from her. "What's he done, then?"

She sipped her mead. "Nothing, which is the problem." Adair gave him a disarming smile. "I asked him to gather some rare ingredients for a healthy sum, but he never reported back."

"Well," Mannheim said easily. "He's in the living quarters, down there." He gestured to the trap door that hadn't escaped the Dark Elf's notice.

"Indeed?" Adair murmured, glancing at the doorway. Her gaze sharpened as she began to formulate a plan.

"Well I'll be..." the innkeeper said softly. "I never knew the Arch-Mage was the Champion of Cyrodiil."

Inwardly wincing at the hated title, Adair nodded, drinking the rest of her mead in two swallows. "I find it easier just to be the Arch-Mage," she said simply. "The Champion of Cyrodiil is too heavy a title for someone like me."

Mannheim laughed. "I'm sure it is."

Trying not to allow her irritation to show she rose from the bar stool. "I really should go speak to Rufio..." she hedged, and Mannheim pointed. "Many thanks, friend."

"Be careful," the innkeeper cautioned suddenly. "He's been acting mighty strange. Like he's been running from something." Adair paused, listening. "He's got the look of a desperate man."

She found a genuine smile somewhere. "Thanks," she said sincerely. "But I'll be fine."

And with that, she dropped down into the living quarters. She didn't see Lucien jump down after her, but the purple glow a moment later tipped her off. She grunted, descending further into anger and ignoring him, she followed her spell to the last door on the left. The door was locked.

Rolling her eyes at the puny display of security, she passed a hand over the lock, her palm glowing with a strange white light. The tumblers clicked and the door opened silently without her touch, revealing a sleeping Rufio.

Casting a silencing spell on the room, she turned towards the door and snapped, "are you coming in or not?" Lucien slipped in after her allowing her to shut the door to close off the spell of silence.

Holding the silence spell with one hand, she sent the strongest paralysis spell she knew at Rufio. Feeling the coating of magic fall over him the terrified old man woke, having time to open his mouth and eyes before the spell took over. "Please..." he whimpered through a mouth that wouldn't close, "I didn't mean to hurt her. She struggled! I told her not to..."

The haze of red that had been slowly building since Raminus' death filtered into her vision. "Don't struggle," she said viscously, "I don't want to hurt you."

Then, with deadly accuracy, the Blade of Woe slipped over his throat and Rufio died with a sigh and a murmur. She allowed herself a smile. "Are you pleased, Mr. Lachance?" she asked.

He shimmered into existence. "Very. You have signed our contract, Rufio's blood the ink."

Adair stared at him for a long moment. "You're still atrociously over-dramatic."

Quirking an eyebrow, Lucien snorted. "The Champion of Cyrodiil calling me atrociously over-dramatic? I believe that is the pot calling the kettle black, my dear."

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh really."

"Mm. You should be more respectful, Murderer. Effectively, I am your boss now. You wouldn't treat Martin Septim this way would you?" Lucien asked her, his tone mild.

Lips curling up in a sneer Adair casually lifted one hand and flicked her fingers. Purple electricity caught him by the throat, pinning him against the wall. "Is that so, Boss?" Her fingers twitched again and the pressure around his neck tightened almost unbearably. "You hired me for my skill, not my complacency."

The pressure suddenly ceased and Lucien fell to his knees. When he looked up, still coughing, Adair was standing in the doorway, her hand still raised as though to recast her spell. Still gasping for breath, he panted, "Go back to Cheydinhal, and if you know it, go to the Abandoned House, in the basement there's a door. Answer it's question with: Sanguine, my brother."

Adair nodded once and vanished with the same white light as always. But the scent of flowers floated on the air, and the blue light of healing magic floated softly around his head.

His magic for hers.

* * *

Adair reappeared beside Ramius' body and Maranique jumped, startled by the Arch-Mage's appearance. "You've returned," the Dunmer said, a trifle surprised.

"For healing and supplies," the battlemage replied.

"Casualties?" the Arch-Mage questioned, all business.

"Twenty. Dyan was one of them."

The Dark Elf was grim. "Have I done the right thing, Maranique?" The battlemage didn't have to know Adair wasn't talking about the necromancers.

The two remaining members of the Mage's Council had never quite managed to be friends, but battlemage laid a comforting hand on Adair's shoulder. "Hannibal would be proud."

Adair snorted bitterly. "Thanks."

"I mean it," Maranique told her. "Ocato looks to you, doesn't he?"

At this the Dark Elf actually smiled. "He seems to be under the impression that I'm carrying Martin's bastard son."

"Even now?" was the incredulous reply.

Her answer was dry. "It's a notion that Fathis Aren hasn't disabused him of."

"Aren? The Telvanni?" Maranique asked her, confused.

Feeling open and nostalgic, Adair smiled and nodded. "A long time ago, I think...I was seven, but I can't remember anymore, I was taken from my home in Morrowind. My parents were killed and I was sold into slave trade. Aren bought me, raised me, and taught me everything I know." Her smile gentled. "I look to him as I would a father."

"Then...you must be a Telvanni!" For the first time in Adair's memory since meeting the heavily charmed battlemage, she looked impressed.

"Hardly," was the answer. "I don't have the sheer magical ability." She allowed Maranique to lead her into the tower. "And," she added as they stepped onto the teleportation pad, "my levitation is shit."

At least she made Maranique laugh.

Adair was left alone in the Council chamber not five minutes later, as the bell rang and sounded the alarm. The battlemage left with promises to be careful and the Arch-Mage stood quietly for a long moment before finally gathering up her wits and vanishing into the air.

* * *

Garrus was surprised when a despondent Adair appeared just in front of the gates of Cheydinhal. Although he was on duty, he waved his hand at her, discouraged when she seemed to ignore him. She wandered over to the Abandoned house, and without much effort slipped inside.

She walked down the steps to the basement only to be faced with a large red door. _What...is the color...of night? _It hissed at her and she regarded it for a long moment.

"Sanguine," she answered finally. "My brother."

Garrus waited, but Adair never came out.

_ Welcome home..._

_*_end chapter


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